Rain and White Flowers
by MirrorFade
Summary: The thoughts of two chuunin in the aftermath of a mission that leaves Hinata in the hospital and Kiba to worry over her.


**Hey, my second Naruto fic! Hope you like it! This was actually a commission, for my dad, of all people. Please read and review! I don't own Naruto, will let you know if I ever do someday. The viewpoints change, the name at the top indicate whoe's POV it is. Enjoy! **

**  
**

**Rain and White Flowers**

**Hinata**

The window is closed, the rain running down the glass in tiny, squirming streams. It is dark, making the flowers in the vase appear gray.

I wonder who left them, but not enough to ask the medic-nins, with their reassuring smiles and hard eyes. Whomever left them came in while I slept, my slumber aided by numbing painkillers administrated through the stinging IV needle. I don't like them; don't like the loose, floating feeling I get.

It cannot be helped, so the medic-nins tell me repeatedly whenever I complain. I try not to do it often, but an unfortunate side effect of the numbing drug is my lapses of memory, growing more frequent by the hour.

This is one of my moments of clarity, or, at least I think it is. I cannot really tell anymore.

The flowers are white. White, sweet-smelling water lilies, though the growing darkness casts shadows over them, making them appear gray, like ash. Like my parka. The one with a slash and bloodstains on it.

I turn my head to the left, away from the window and the water lilies, grimacing as several pulses of pain run up my right side.

My arm is broken, and I suppose it would hurt if I could actually feel it. The painkillers make my body numb, but they cannot rid me of the pain completely.

My torso, right above my hipbone, is what causes my pain.

A stab wound, gained when I stepped in front of our client, because I was not quick enough to deflect the enemy's blade. Sensei said I was brave, doing what I did. I dint say anything, but I knew what a disgraceful thing it was, that I, Hyuga Hinata, allowed a common hill bandit, a washout from Cloud county, to get the upper hand on me.

The wound is only a faint discomfort now. The true pain is the image that never leaves me; even in my drug induced sleep it haunts me.

The look of fear on Kiba's face, the look I cannot force from my mind, no matter how hard I try.

Thunder screams, the rain beats harder against the windowpanes. I wonder briefly if the power's out, it is so dark in here. Was it that way before? I cannot remember.

I close my eyes, but I only see my friend's face all the move vividly.

His face, as Shino lowered me to the ground, off the rock. I had almost protested, it was raining hard then, pouring, as it is now, and there was mud, so much mud. It would get my parka, my favorite ash-colored parka, so dirty. But my side hurt, and my arm hurt, and I was so _tired, _talking didn't seem worth the effort.

Sensei, telling me to stay awake, Kiba looking scared. I had almost laughed then. Kiba was _never_ afraid. But his eyes had been wide, his voice had shook, so he must have been afraid. Maybe I'm imagining everything, and Kiba's really angry with me and that's why his voice shook and his eyes were wide and he was yelling, because he was yelling, wasn't he?

I clench my left hand into a fist, ignoring the soreness from the IV needle as it protests my flexed arm. I can't keep anything strait in my mind. It's the damn painkillers. Numbness isn't worth this confusion. I'd rather have pain and clarity than this numbness.

Maybe I should tell the medic-nins, maybe I should jump off a cliff, it amounts to about the same thing in the end.

I wonder what Kiba was yelling about as I unclench my hand, the pain in my left arm residing as if it never was. He was yelling, I'm sure.

I can't remember what happened after I took the blade with any real lucidity, just that it _hurt_, and the mud was soaking into my cloths, my nice clean cloths, and I was so _tired, _but Shino slapped me and wouldn't let me sleep, and Kiba was yelling and his eyes were wide, but I can't remember what he was yelling _about. _

Maybe he was made at me for not deflecting the blade like I should have and getting blood over the client's pretty silk kimono. Maybe, maybe, but I can't remember.

I turn over again as another crash of lightning rattles the glass in the window. There is no moon or stars tonight; just dark, angry storm clouds and the occasional flash of lightning, the bursts of lightning and bombs of thunder growing more frequent. The storm is getting worse.

I can't see the flowers anymore, just the faint outline of what I know to be a bouquet of pale water lilies. They are water lilies, right? I'm can't be sure of anything right now.

The medic-nins said this fog of confusion would lift in due time, but it only seems to be getting thicker with every breath, like I'm walking deeper and deeper underground and the steam from the heat my breath forms gets thicker and thicker until it's fog, and I can't see anything, can't hear, can't feel.

I cough, suddenly cold. I feel myself shivering, and I cough again.

The window cracks, fissures running across the surface in a rapidly expanding spider's web pattern. Thunder screams, and it shatters, sending tiny shards flying towards me. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the stinging pain I know will come.

I wait, but the hurt does not come.

Wind howls and rain comes in. Logically, I know the rain is hitting me and that the glass shards did too. Right now there are many minuscule scratches on my face and they are bleeding. But I feel nothing, nothing but the cold.

My eyes remain closed, it's the logical thing to do, and I'm tired, so very tired and so very cold.

I hear the thunder again, and then I sleep.

-

-

-

**Kiba**

Glass shards cut into my face, though they miss my eyes completely, for which I am thankful. _Ouch, ouch, OUCH! _Glass _hurts_, especially when it gets into your face. I growl, clenching my fists as fat raindrops splash onto my stinging face through the broken window.

I open my eyes, when I'm sure no more shards of glass will be flying my way.

Rain pelts my face; the few remaining shards of glass still clinging to the window frame do little to deter it. The broken window makes me think of cat skulls, jagged fangs bared even in death. I hate cats.

I sigh, shaking my head, wincing as the glass still imbedded in my face cuts in deeper.

Somehow, the vase with the lilies is still there, the blossoms dancing madly in the wind, glass shards gleaming on the pale petals like dewdrops. Pretty things, the flowers, and strong too, though you would never know by looking. Like Hinata.

I turn, crunching glass shards under my sandals. My teammate is sleeping, her face calm, the heart monitor beeping steadily like it should. Her right arm is in a splint, pinned unnaturally strait by a thin board and strips of slender nylon.

The white shirt she wears in place of the gray parka cannot hide the bandages on her abdomen. My teeth clench, my face hurts more now, but I will bare it. I took the full blow, so as to shield her, my precious friend, my Hinata.

_Everyone gets hurt, everyone bleeds, and everyone dies. That is life and such is the life we have chosen._ I've heard that statement so many times; everyone I know has committed it to memory. Everyone knows it by heart, but nobody really knows who first said it. Maybe it was a Kage, whose face is carved on the mountain overlooking our village. Maybe it was a Chunin, someone like us. Maybe, maybe not.

Its funny, how many times you can hear something but not really understand it, until it happens.

I always knew logically that Hinata would get hurt on a mission someday, but I never really thought she would come as close to dying as she did.

I lost it, I will admit. I wanted to kill him, the bandit, for no one hurts my Hinata, no one! Sensei said no, or did she shout? I cannot remember, things happened so fast.

A brave thing Hinata did, shielding the client with her body, taking the knife. I don't think the bandit really intended to hurt her, I could smell his fear, wafting off him in waves. He ran, face splattered with her blood. I would have run after him, but sensei said no and Hinata was hurt, so I could not leave her.

Shino didn't get there fast enough to catch her, and she landed wrong, on her right arm, on a rock. I heard the bone snap from ten feet away, it was so loud, but Hinata did not cry out, did not scream.

Sensei shouted at me, to run for help, to find help. I would have, I really would have, but my feet were stuck. I couldn't leave her in the rain, I couldn't. Shino, he kept his head, moving Hinata so she wasn't lying on her arm. She was in pain, how could she not be, with wounds like that, and she was cold, shivering as her parka was soaked in mud and blood.

I never liked the rain. It conceals enemies, washes away tracks and scents, and it reminds me of funerals, for some reason. Rain makes me think of father, though he died so long ago, I hold no memories of him now. I do remember that it rained on the day of his funeral, like it rained at the memorial service for the Third Hokage. Rain always seems to come at funerals, like the sky is mourning the passing of those whose bones we bury at the base of the mountains. All I could think of then, as Hinata shivered and bled, was that the rain had come to take her away, that it knew she was dying and couldn't wait to begin shedding tears for my friend.

Shino slapped her, to keep her awake. I almost hit him, but I knew he was only trying to help Hinata. Sensei bandaged her up, and three long hours later we wound up in here, in room 225 of the emergency wing of Konoha hospital.

The three of us waited outside of her door, for what seemed like an impossibly long time. The clock on the white painted wall had to be slow; we had to have been waiting for more than forty minutes. I know now that the clock wasn't slow; time just seemed to have slowed to a crawl then, like it does in the aftermath of a disaster. At least, that's what Sensei said. I wouldn't know, I've never been in anything that could truly be called a disaster, though several instances have come close.

One of the medic-nins came out to talk to us then, I don't know which one. They all look the same, with their white uniforms and deceptively merry smiles. Their eyes, their hard eyes, give them away. All who work in a shinobi sanatorium have seen death, so much death. Such is life, and such is the life we have chosen.

She said things like _sever blood loss, bad infection, we are optimistic, it could be worse. _

_Could be worse. _What a nice thing to say, it could be worse. Hinata could be dead, and you say that it could be worse with a smile on your face?

The hours passed after that, I stayed by her side, always by her side, until sensei made me go home to rest for a few hours. Rest? How could I rest? Hinata was hurting, and sensei was telling me to rest?

Shino agreed with sensei, and whacked me with something blunt across the back of my head. Damn him, the bruise is huge, and stings even now, eight hours later.

I came back after I woke up, after stopping to get the flowers. People in hospitals always seem to get flowers, though I'm not sure why. It seemed like the right thing to do, so I got a bouquet of white water lilies, sweet smelling flowers I thought she would like.

She was sleeping when I came in, sensei and Shino had gone home, to rest, like they told me to. I stayed with her; ignoring the medic-nins when they told me visiting hours were over. I glared at them, and didn't move. I would stay with her, I would watch over her, my dear Hinata, my precious friend.

I glance at the clock; it's two thirty six in the morning, as I tug a large shard of glass out of my face, wincing as the cut spurts blood onto the white sheets on the hospital bed. Why did they make everything in hospitals white, from the sheets, the uniforms for the medic-nins, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling? Why is everything painted the same shade, the one color that attracts stains like a dog attracts fleas? The one shade that blood never comes out of, no matter how hard you scrub?

I wonder how much money the medic-nins spend on bleach every year. It must be a lot.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, people are coming. Good, they can help Hinata.

Her fever has gotten worse, I think. Her face is sweaty, though she shivers like it is winter and she is outside without proper clothing. I shrug out of my parka, shaking the rain off before I lay it atop her. It is not much, but perhaps it will keep her a bit warmer, at least until the medic-nins come.

Her eyes were open earlier, but her gaze passed right over me, unseeing. It was unsettling, to say the least, to have your friend's eyes pass you over. I wonder if she was truly awake, or if it was only a reflex. You hear about things like that, people in comas who open their eyes, move their hands, even speak, but they aren't truly awake, just acting on reflex. Oni-chan told me about it, apparently even animas do it. She would know, leading veterinarian in the village and all.

The knowledge doesn't really help me here, and I make a mental note to ask sensei to teach me some basic first aid skills, it would come in handy for times like this. I watch Hinata, as the medic-nins burst in, as they transfer her to a stretcher, and as they take her away. I don't follow.

I'm tired, my face stings, and a part of me recognizes I would only be in the way if I tried to follow them.

I feel myself sinking down to the floor, I'm so tired, my limbs feel like stone, impossibly heavy, there's no way I can hold them up. The knowledge that Hinata will be all right takes away all my remaining energy, the few hours I spent unconscious didn't give me any rest at all. My chakra is almost gone; I doubt I'll be able to walk home at this rate.

_Maybe the medic-nins will let me sleep here_, I thought tiredly, eyes closing.

One member of our team was hurt, and another dropping in exhaustion from watching over her. It's fucking ironic; it's something Hinata would have done. I would have laughed, but I'm too tired.

I sense people moving around me, someone is moving the vase of flowers. The sweet scent comes to me, along with the smell of rain. The scent of the thing I hate, and the scent of the gift I left for the one I care for the most, my precious friend. Fucking irony, the gods must be laughing.

**AN-Well, did you like it? Oh, the reason Kiba's dog wasn't in this fic...I couldn't remember how to spell his name...  
**


End file.
